


My Funny Valentine

by sweetcarolanne



Series: Angel!Verse [6]
Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Asylum
Genre: Ableism, Ableist Language, Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bitterness, Bittersweet, Canon Disabled Character, F/F, Femslash, Freedom, Gen, Jealousy, Love, Mental Institutions, Romance, Valentine's Day, microcephaly, pinhead - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 04:14:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3343319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetcarolanne/pseuds/sweetcarolanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlet. Love seen through the eyes of one who believes she is outside of love...</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Funny Valentine

**Author's Note:**

> I chose the title because for some reason the song was stuck in my head while I was writing this. :P
> 
> Disclaimer: I am making no money off this fic, please don't sue!
> 
> Dedicated to my dear sweet friend Mii-Mii Ramone. Happy Valentine's Day! :)

It was not Valentine’s Day, far from it in fact, but a strange feeling of unstated romance in the air made Dr. Miranda Crump glance up at the calendar on the wall to check the date anyway.

The whole procedure going on in Dr. Crump’s office was not strictly legal. Strings had been pulled in high places, a fake death certificate had been created and a body that was still living was being signed for. Dr. Crump, however, was beyond caring. Another patient would soon be out of her hair for good. And besides, Dr. Crump told herself for what must have been the millionth time, it was highly unlikely the patient in question had even had the capacity to carry out what she had been accused of doing years ago. It was more probable that she had been the convenient scapegoat for the actions of another. However, none of that could ever be proved – the more likely suspects were both now dead.

Not that any of this was Dr. Crump’s business in the first place, or so she reasoned.

The two women standing before Dr. Crump’s desk, who she privately and resentfully thought of as “the pinhead” and “that deluded old bat” were not even touching each other, yet the tenderness in one brief look exchanged between them was intensely powerful, so much so that it seemed to express something too beautiful and too sacred to be spoken of aloud. A beauty and sanctity that Dr. Crump could herself never find even if she had more than one lifetime to live, and that realization irritated her.

If she chose, Dr. Crump could keep the woman called Pepper there, and have her companion locked up as well. It was obvious that the woman who was taking Pepper away was not intending to treat her as an adopted child. But something stayed Dr. Crump’s hand and voice – something deeper than the mere desire to be rid of yet another burdensome patient.

Dr. Crump was not, at heart, a corrupt person. As a young psychiatrist she had longed to make a difference in the world, to heal the sick and help those in need. But time, frustration and the crushing force of “the system” had made her weary and cynical, and two messy divorces and a shattered relationship with her now estranged daughter had left their scars upon her soul. Now all she had was Briarcliff, and her struggle to keep order in the roaring, chaotic hell-hole that the asylum had become.

With another loving glance towards her precious Pepper, the older and taller of the two women in front of Dr. Crump’s desk leaned forward and signed the papers that the doctor had pushed towards her. Dr. Crump finally spoke, her voice sounding far more tired and bitter than she intended.

“That’s all. You may go now.”

“Thank you,” Pepper’s lover replied softly and courteously, gently guiding Pepper out of the room.

Pepper herself did not speak or look back. Her eyes were fixed with wonder and ecstasy upon the being who would become her entire world from that day onwards.

Although she did not witness it, Dr. Crump sensed that in the black limousine that carried the two women away from Briarcliff forever, the blissful pair were holding hands; their fingers entwined as tightly as their hearts had always been.


End file.
